Take a Breath and Let the Rest Come Easy
by stilinskihudson
Summary: Still reeling from the death of a close friend, Scott and his friends encounter a new enemy who may change the lives of everyone in Beacon Hills more than anyone could have ever imagined.
1. Chapter 1

Raindrops splatter against the fingerprint-stained window, the intense gusts of wind outside shaking the rafters, water spilling out of the gutters and onto the moist ground. Through the window, a boy is visible, scrawling something down onto a piece of college ruled notebook paper frantically, the led of his already dulling pencil pressing against the blue lines with ferocity. Every so often, a strike of lightning illuminates his otherwise darkened room, the only light source his green desk lamp that has been left on too long, the bulb hot enough to burn skin if his fingertips were to wander too close.

The boy runs a shaky hand through his hair, letting out a long puff of air through his pursed lips, the other hand tapping an unscripted melody onto the wooden desktop, his mind whirling with too many questions to ask, too many theories to be debated, and most of all, too many worries for a boy of only sixteen years.

"Stiles?" the door to his sanctuary swings open, causing him to startle.

"God, Dad, there's this thing called _knocking_..." Stiles begins in a haste, swiveling his chair around to face his father, who is leaning in the threshold of his door, thumbs stuck into his belt, an eyebrow cocked in a questioning manner as he studies his son. He is fully aware of the prominent, dark circles under Stiles' eyes, but does not speak the observation aloud. "I mean, I get that you're a certified sheriff, or whatever, but I don't think that gives you the right to just barge into my room without a cause-"

"You do realize it's three thirty in the morning?" The concerned father interrupts.

Stiles is suddenly aware of his heavy eyelids and stinging eyes that hadn't really been noticeable until his dad had pointed out how long he'd actually _been awake._

"Oh, crap. Would you look at the time!" Stiles extends his arms in a _"what-are-you-gonna-do"_ gesture. "Looks like i better hit the hay.."

"Stiles." Mr. Stilinski's voice is worn, as if it had been sanded down. Stiles cringes visibly, knowing that he is just another unnecessary burden for his father, one that he really shouldn't have to deal with after a long day of solving the never-ending crises of their hometown Beacon Hills.

"You have school in the morning," Mr. Stilinski begins, as if Stiles wasn't aware. "I know it's almost summer break and all-"

"Yeah, Dad, I know." Stiles mumbles, rubbing his hazel eyes with the heels of his hands. When he returns his tired gaze to his father, little multi-colored spots cloud his vision from rubbing his eyes too hard.

Mr. Stilinski seems to want to say more, but he snaps his mouth shut, thinking better of it. "Alright, good night, Stiles." and the door clicks shut behind him. However, Stiles doesn't move until he hears his father's footsteps disappear down the hallway.

As Stiles stands up, he eyes the piece of paper with his handwriting on it, and in one swift movement crumples it up, and throws into the trash bin under his desk without much conviction. He's been working on the same thing for hours on end, and had to start over a number of times that you couldn't count on both hands, judging by the paper wads littering the floor. Stiles ignores them and shuffles to his bed, collapsing against his pillow, clutching it to his chest, as if to hold himself together.

A branch scratches against his window, the leaves slapping against the glass in the summer storm. This is the last thing Stiles hears before dozing off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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**A/N: This is my first attempt at a Teen Wolf fanfic! Let me know what you think! Also, if you are not up to date on Teen Wolf (3B) then I would advise not to read further in this fanfic, unless you are willing to feast your eyes on mega spoilers! **


	2. Chapter 2

Isaac nonchalantly tosses a tennis ball at the opposing wall for about the billionth time, his boredom literally shaking the walls of Derek's loft with the intensity of it. Derek whips around in his chair to shoot him a menacing glare that could quite possibly kill small mammals.

_"Isaac."_ he hisses.

Isaac's eyes shift over to Derek, his legs dangling over the edge of the couch, looking at Derek upside down, his eyebrows arched in a questioning manner.

Derek shakes his head, swiveling his chair back to face the desk, staring at the map in front of him with a furrowed brow. "Can't you go be irritating somewhere else?" However, his voice isn't as malicious as before. Isaac smirks to himself, and tosses the tennis ball once more, it making a satisfying, hollow thump sound. He knows that Derek has a low tolerance when it comes to-well, anything, really, but Derek is starting to warm up to him, as much as he would deny it. Isaac can tell.

"Oh, lighten up, Derek," he says, returning his gaze forwards. "Don't you wanna play fetch?"

Derek lets out an irritated, warning huff, letting Isaac know he's went too far.

"Or not." he offers lightly, and throws the ball again.

Derek's finger follows the path of a line on the map, his mind whirling as he tries to follow what it's saying. He's been staring at it for God knows how long, trying to decipher its code.

Derek feels Isaac behind him, peering curiously over his shoulder. "What are you looking at, anyway?" he questions.

Derek scoots his chair over to make room for Isaac at the desk. Isaac kneels down onto his knees, resting his elbows on the surface as his eyes flicker over the map.

"I'm not sure what it's for," Derek admits. "Peter gave it to me, because apparently he is too incompetent to do research of his own." Derek scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Well I could have told you that one. The guy's a prick."

"I don't think it's a map of a building anywhere around here," Derek continues, ignoring him, standing and walking away from the table and starting to pace slowly around the room, thinking.

"So why does it concern us if it isn't in Beacon Hills?" Isaac asks, turning his head to face Derek.

"I'm not sure," he replies, and stops pacing. "But if Peter is worried about it, surely it has to mean something."

"Well can't you just ask him?" Isaac's tone is laced with impatience as he bounces to his feet, looking like he's ready to burst out the door and dive headfirst into whatever mess Peter has entangled them into.

Derek rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms firmly across his chest. "Don't you think I've already done that?"

"So what you're saying is," Isaac begins slowly. "Is that Peter totally could have just given us a map to anything, like, my great-grandmother's basement or something, and we wouldn't even know?"

"I don't think Peter is messing with me this time," Derek rejects Isaac's statement. "I think he knows more than what he's letting on. But I can't do him much good if I don't even know _where the damn thing is._" Derek's voice rises with frustration.

Isaac and Derek stand in the middle of the room in silence, then too lost in their own theories and thoughts. Both of their heads snap up as Derek's door slides open, revealing a face on the other side.

Scott McCall enters the room, wearing an expression of exhaustion and worry.

"What is it?" Derek's voice is weary as he glances quickly over Scott's features. Everything about him screams _mourning_. Due to the recent death of Allison Argent, things have been as fragile as broken glass, all of the pack and the few others who know about the supernatural tip-toeing around the painful truth. Scott, of course, has been hit the hardest.

Isaac, admittedly, has been torn apart by her passing as well. Both boys had been emotionally attached to the werewolf huntress-that's plain to see. Derek pretends not to hear Isaac's muffled cries from the opposite room each night, wounded and filled with sorrow. However, Isaac tends to put on a brave face when there are public prying eyes.

Derek can only imagine what Scott is feeling. The two seemed to be attached by an invisible tether for as long as Derek has known Scott. Even when the two were broken up, and Allison had taken an interest in Isaac, there was always something there, unspoken and unacknowledged.

"Maybe you two should head to school." Derek faces Isaac, not giving Scott time to answer. "It's seven thirty, and I don't think it's wise to miss the last day of school, as uneventful and meaningless as it is."

Isaac opens his mouth to protest, but Scott just nods. "I was coming to pick him up, actually." he responds. Isaac quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't question it, snatching his backpack off the floor as he exits the house, slamming the door shut behind him. Derek, left alone, returns to the sanctuary of his desk, letting out a long breath through his nose, before returning to scan the map.

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**A/N: Thank you ****Jlcny825**** for the review! And thank you to all other readers!**


	3. Chapter 3

p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family:  
Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size:  
11.818181991577148px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet,  
sans-serif;"span style="line-height: 18px;"Scott's sneakers scuff the sidewalk as he walks, the two boys side by side,  
Isaac's right foot straying into the grass due to the narrow pavement./span/span/p 


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